


Nourishment

by RhineGold



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will Graham, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark Will Graham, Drugging, Indifferent Hannibal, Intersex Hannibal, M/M, Omega Hannibal Lecter, wine and dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: I seek my intimacy in ways that are far less sexual, but no less physical. I take them into myself in a way that is not threatening, that allows me to retain perfect control. I part my lips to consume, because I cannot press into their flesh with my own. They nourish me and I claim them. I own them. This is my design.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Nourishment

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fill for something on the kink meme but damned if I can find the prompt now, sadface...
> 
> This story was an idea that was never fully realized but I'd like to return to it someday and do some more work here. (Will's head is difficult for me to crack sometimes though).

He pours over everything. Jack is reluctant to sign off on it, of course, but it is only with Alana's gentle-but-insistent pressure (and Hannibal's own infuriatingly magnanimous 'blessing') that Will finally gets his way. Full access to the forensic analysis of one Hannibal Lecter, and all the countless ways that no single shred of anything can connect him to any single crimes. Will has been freed but never quite exonerated, and he knows he never will be until the true culprit has been brought to light. 

He goes along with the things Alana murmurs and nods, eyes brimming with tears (false) and remorse (rage) when he is questioned by agents, the media, or worse, much worse, a tiny man in a faded coat cradling a photograph of a young man who has never been entirely found. Encephalitis, mental illness, and necessity buy Will Graham his freedom, but these things will not purchase his revenge. 

Instead, he finds it in the pages of the files Jack has reluctantly handed over - not a clue or red flag, but something that strikes him just the same. The secret he finds isn't incriminating, not even damning, but it is fascinating. Hannibal is not the perfect image of ultra-masculine Alphadom he has always imagined him to be. He is a Omega, one who has been chemically castrated to the point of passing. What feels like a shock slowly trickles into comprehension. There has never been a sexual element to the crimes he is positive Hannibal has committed.

 _I seek my intimacy in ways that are far less sexual, but no less physical. I take them into myself in a way that is not threatening, that allows me to retain perfect control. I part my lips to consume, because I cannot press into their flesh with my own. They nourish me and I claim them. I own them. This is my design._

He thinks back to the early days of their interactions and the faint confessions Hannibal often uses as humor. _'I am very careful about what I put into my body.'_

He thinks of the countless invitations to dinner he has received, and the way Hannibal seems determined (desperate?) to resume their off-keel relationship. He wants Will back in his life, in his inner circle. Control. Friends close and enemies closer, most likely. Hannibal craves power and certainty. 

He manages to dial the number from memory, having deleted it from his phone long ago. Mercifully, it goes to a voice mail, and he leaves a message, stunned that his voice is not shaking as he accepts the earlier invitation he'd left ignored in his own phone. Something like power filters through him, and he wonders if this is how Hannibal feels all the time. (He must). He knows how he will steal that control, and how he will break this man. It is a design he will see crafted, one way or another. 

~*~

Hannibal lets him in with a smile he senses is more grateful than the other man wishes to show. Will allows him to take his coat and jams one hand into his pocket. He allows Hannibal to take the bottle of wine from him, but as they drift into the dining room, he doesn't move too far from the other man. 

When Hannibal excuses himself into the kitchen, Will sets about uncorking and pouring the wine into the waiting glasses. He overpours, knowing he is giving them too much, but he doesn't care. It only takes a moment for the tablets to dissolve and he swirls the glasses the way he has seen other people, wondering how Hannibal will react to the scent. 

They both know he can smell it, if not upon entering the room, then surely upon lifting the glass to his lips. He hesitates, mouth turned into a prim bow of disapporoval, and Will watches him carefully, all wide-eyes and tousled hair and he wonders (not for the first time) how far Hannibal is willing to let things go, to make this fragile peace last. 

"To friendship, and the mending of fences," Hannibal offers, his tone annoyingly amused, and Will raises his glass in silent acknowledgement. 

The wine is excellent, having set Will back a pretty penny (two months worth of dog food chilling at the sidebar), and the food even more so. He wonders if it is anyone he knows. 

They make small talk, about Alana, the dogs, Will's return to teaching in the coming weeks. They do not talk of murder, but the room is heavy with it all the same. Hannibal drinks as deeply and freely from his wine as he would any other night, and Will knows he is waiting to see where this will play out, how far it can go. 

"I read your files," He says softly, looking at his plate, and the tension shifts, crouching and creeping around their shoulders now. "You never told me you were an Omega." 

"It is not something I often consider," He replies, tone still bright, but he has stopped cutting at his portion of steak. 

"You allowed yourself to undergo suppressant treatments. That's why we never scent any heat on you."

It isn't a question, but Hannibal answers anyway, and he wonders if the pills are working yet. "I found them to be... rather traumatic. I am better served without such things."

"I've never been with an Omega," He says, feeling his own tongue swell with awkward honesty, and for one hot moment, he is certain he has made a mistake and swallowed from the wrong glass. 

"It is an experience I am told many find quite pleasing," There is something husky about the way Hannibal says the final word, and Will finds himself refilling his wine with shaking hands. The tension is shifting now, warming along with their faces, and he wonders how easy it will be to talk Hannibal into taking off all of those clothes. 

~*~


End file.
